#gotttagay

[lemondyed]

@gotttagay & STARTER CALL .

( sms ) have u told her yet??? ( sms ) its sam btw

[dancescircles]

Smiling was mean, but Cassie couldn’t help herself. She’d missed making Santana flounder, and despite everything, it was good to see her. She didn’t flinch (externally) at the hostility shoved in her face, having expected nothing else after they’d crashed and burned and exploded into jagged pieces she couldn’t touch without bleeding.

They’d fought. It was nothing new, except when Santana had walked out, Cassie felt in the aching pit of her stomach that she wasn’t coming back. She’d yelled curses and thrown a lamp at the wall, collapsing to the floor with sobs and cradling a bottle of vodka. Leaving was the best thing Santana could have done for her. 

She’d stayed drunk for weeks, redecorating her loft with broken pieces of furniture, empty bottles and vomit. On a Friday, Carmen Tibideaux had left a message informing her that if she didn’t return to work on Monday, she needn’t return ever. 

So, knowing NYADA was all she had left, she’d scrounged the shred of self-love she possessed and picked herself up. And then something had changed within her. She’d looked death in the eye and decided she wanted to live. With one of Santana’s shirts tucked away in the bottom of a drawer, she’d kept picking herself up. Rehab had been a fucking ordeal. Recovery was gruelling work, and she chose it every day. Every day she chose to conquer her self-destructive impulses and forgive herself for mistakes that would no longer define her. Alcohol, an eating disorder and codependent relationships were out of her coping repertoire. She’d started playing the guitar again and rock climbing. She’d replaced her liquor cabinet with a cat tree for the shithead who’d conned his way into her loft. She was building a life, and there was a space for Santana if she wanted it. God, Cassie hoped she still wanted it. 

“Look, Santana, you don’t owe me a damn thing. I know that. I'm asking you for two minutes,” she said, her green eyes clear and pleading. “I'm on Step Nine and—whatever, that's not really why I’m here. I’m sorry. It was all my fault. I hurt a lot of people while I was hurting myself, but I regret hurting you the most. I, uh, I love you. I loved you the whole time. And if you give me another chance, I’m all in, baby.” 

@gotttagay​ / cont.

[heartsofvalor]

@gotttagay ( here ).

“Why would I tell anyone? I don’t want anyone else finding out I was here.”

[southsidelover]

She liked to think that nobody knew; saw her creeping, those extra hours past midnight spent, up in the glass encased walls of that penthouse suite, with a girl who lived an impossible life. And they were an impossible dream, Toni and the boss’s daughter, her hooks clinging into the girl that promised to lift her up, up, and further inside. All she had to do was perform, and with aplomb. A little deviousness, the alcohol always mixing with the drugs they did together, a terrible pairing that made sense when people thought about it. Because if Toni had been the bad boy instead, they’d have drawn together the dots far sooner, enjoying the present wrap that this gave her without the attention, the choice assignments, but not the noise. Lining up the drugs in lines, china white, she took her hit. It was like seeing stars, and feeling as if she was on top of the world, looking over at Santana with a smirk that lifted up at the corners of her mouth. “You ready?” she was, forearms coming to a rest against the torn up jeans she wore, getting up with an assured steadiness as she joined the other woman by the window, an arm wrapped about her waist, a kiss placed there against the crook of her neck. Nobody to worry about seeing them tonight, the club was empty, and they were the last to leave. “Thought you’d want a taste before we pick up dinner and I drop you off.” Just a little high, just enough to keep them going, strung out on the product they sold their souls for. Fingers tracing through her dark hair, that quiet assurance, the girl beneath the tougher exterior still there despite the whiskey they’s drank on the way up as they finished closing out, cash stored in the safe. Another night of profit and debauchery, and she’d do it all again, they’d do it, again, tomorrow night, and onwards. “Pretty sure your daddy dearest is going to cut off my fingers if I keep getting you home past your little curfew.” @gotttagay

[palmedscar]

( SMS — S. LOPEZ ) : i loslt my shoes ( SMS — S. LOPEZ ) : so when you coime ubring shoes ( SMS — S. LOPEZ ) : please zmy feet are cold

@gotttagay liked for a drunk text. || sc.

[theoriginalbadass]

continued from here [x] - @gotttagay

“They weren’t all bad though, right? Sometimes ya even seemed into it,” Puck teased back. Santana and him would always have a special bond and he was glad that they’d remained so close over the years. “Oh, uh, no reason,” he lied. “Just never really asked ya about it before. I think I already know the answer to this question...if ya could, would you ever go back into the closet?”

[imblwcrbler]

“It was really cool of you to get the Cheerios to dance with me during my number, Santana,” he says with a smile on his face, cheeky, bright-eyed an all. While ‘It’s Not Unusual’ was a classic and having Kurt teach him so much about being brave in the public eye, what was unusual about being in love and letting the world know ? It was the perfect song to audition for the glee club with, and even if Mr. Schuester wasn’t there, the teacher was surely at least familiar with a bit of his work.

“Although, I did think lighting the piano on fire was definitely... different,” he adds, unsure of the intentions behind the piano. “It added a lot of heat,” he jokes with a wink. / @gotttagay liked !

[theoriginalbadass]

continued from here [x] - @gotttagay

Puck gave Santana a puzzled look. “What? No one’s got me up in my feelings. What, I can’t just be observant and shit? Just ‘cause I noticed something doesn’t mean I like someone, Lopez.” He shook his head. He was obviously lying and was pretty sure his best friend knew this, but he was also stubborn and wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell her the truth.